


Ode to Joy

by HP_Lovecats



Category: Catherine (Video Game)
Genre: Anachronistic, Epilogue, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Vignette, dialogue-heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_Lovecats/pseuds/HP_Lovecats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini-epilogues for the cast at the Stray Sheep once the nightmares are over and done with; assumes the True Freedom ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ode to Joy

** JUSTIN BAILEY, Writer and Reporter **  
_“It’s the truth!”_

Top Posts:

**Man of the Century: The Wasting Deaths of 20XX**

Originally published in [REDACTED] and other news outlets on May 15th.

“The wave of wasting deaths that took the lives of several young and middle-aged men over the course of a week this year (as of 20XX) came, hit, and left like a freak storm. While the deaths remain clinically unexplained, their occurrence isn’t unheard of historically. Everything about that week is consistent with reports in certain obscure sources of similar inexplicable male deaths which likewise occurred over the course of one week every 100 years. Whether out of urban or more traditional legend, those sources attribute the deaths to a ‘curse’. If there’s any truth to that, then it’s a curse that several men (and one woman) this time around may have successfully broken.”

_Read more…_

Related Post:

**Living, Dying, Dreaming: Reflections on “Man of the Century”**

“This is a piece of memoir, of sorts, reflecting on certain things which occurred while the events of ‘Man of the Century’ were still ongoing. I’d begun my research into the history of the phenomenon shortly after the deaths started. My best understanding of what had best be most practically taken from it came from reoccurring dreams over that week, and my and others’ association with an everyday hero in the guise of a drinking buddy, with a talent for breaking others’ ‘curses’ through simple communication. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether this piece or ‘Man of the Century’ is the better explanation of what happened that week. They’re different approaches, but they share at least a part of the same truth.”

_Read more…_

 

Latest Post:

**2-Week Hiatus!**

“Felicia and I are getting married this Friday! Therefore, I’ll be out of blogging from today to Saturday of next week (the 21st-31st).

Thank you for reading as always. See you at the end of the month.”

 

* * *

 

“I still feel like there are eyes all over me.”

“There aren’t, Daniel.”

“No? None at all?”

“No-o-o, Daniel. There are none.”

“Because I’m absolutely certain that those people across the street slowed down to get a good look at us when we passed.”

“No, Daniel. There are _no_ eyes on you. There are eyes on _us_. We’re new in town, we’re people, we’re not made of air, and this _isn’t_ a very large town. People looking our way is normal, Daniel. We’re normal. And we _look_ like it. Remember, I should know.”

“…What?”

“I-i-it’s nothing. It’s just that… I thought for a moment that you were going to say… perhaps it’s because we look so good together?”

A halfway-smile and a scoff.

“Men are so—“

“Men are so what?”

“ _Cheesy_.”

“Anna?”

“You heard me!”

“You’re—smirking.”

“Am I? I thought I was cringing.”

“Not embarrassed to be seen with me, are you?”

“Now _you’re_ smirking, you— _dork!_ ”

“I wish to repeat the question.”

“No-o-o. You’re following my lead just fine.”  
  


* * *

 

  
“If you’re gonna even look at pink, why don’t you go ahead and try on something red? It’s bold, my good man. You wanna look bold at your wedding, don’t you?”

“Pink’s a kind of red, Boss...”

“Yeah, but it’s a _weak_ kind of red. Boy… Why do we even _make_ men’s suits in pink…”

“Beats me.”

“You’re the one thinkin’ pink here, Archie. You, think hard. Tell me, what the hell is the appeal of pink for a guy? Think going it in pink is suiting up for success? C’mon, what’s it about?”

“It’s, uh… not about success, I guess? I dunno, it—seems safe. She’ll be all right with it, too.”

“…Speaking of safe, does she know?”

“Uh—what?”

“About yourrrr, uh. …You know. About the past.”

“…Oh. Nnnno, just, uh—you, me, and Vincent from the bar.”

“Because you haven’t had to, or—because you don’t want to screw things up by _bringing_ it up?”

“Both, I guess? Uhh… To be honest, I, uh… No—that isn’t right…”

“What’s not?”

“I just don’t—I’m not on the run from anything anymore. You know? It was breathing down my neck, and… now it’s not. Like, I’m happy here. ”

“Heh. They do call this ‘settling down’. Even if we don’t all do it right.”

“Ha.”

“Right away, I mean.”

“Right.”

“Sorry I’m the one who brought it up again, by the way, man.”

“It’s all right, Boss. Seriously, it’s, uh… It’s all right.”

“Big-time congrats, though.”

“You… said that already.”

“Not just on finding a lady, Archie. On getting your shit together!” Back-clap, shoulder-squeeze. Two fingers on a free hand “walking” in midair. “Can’t attain _upward mobility_ without finding your footing and _holding_ it.”

“I’m, er—still… not really looking to climb.”

“And I get that.” Another squeeze. “But holding down a space for you and what you want? It still takes strength. Still takes ambition, self-respect! ‘Course, pretty much any color that isn’t pink makes more of a… territory-marking, ‘ _this is myyyyy life_ ’ statement.”

“That’s—that’s fine with me.”

“My point is, you’re one heck of a real man now, Archie, and it’s a great thing to see.” One more _clap_ and a pull back. “I love ya, guy.”

“I—appreciate that, Boss. Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, well, well. What’s shaking, champ?”

“Ohh, man.”

“Look at you; you’re getting lost in that scarf and friggin’ coat, kid, sheesh.”

“Heh… His mom picked it. – She picks everything.”

“Well, you don’t say. She also why Maddie and I haven’t met the little guy till now? How—“

“Two… He’s two. And, er—no, it’s… It’s my fault, too. You know, I… wouldn’t exactly know what milestones come when.”

“Hey! Soon as you’re sure enough a kid’s at the point where they’re not gonna get sick plain by going outside, I’d say it’s not too early to introduce them to their fuckin’—“

“Boss…”

“I was gonna saaay… Uncle.”

“ _I_ was gonna— …‘Scuse me?”

“You heard me, _Mr. Wallace_. Maddie and I are kinda past the point where we’re gonna have any of our own. If I can’t be a dad, I can at least, ah—offer to do right by this kid. A bit like I hope I’ve been doing right by you.”

“I…?”

“You look like you’re lookin’ at a ghost, friend. Here, kid, c’mere… Between Dad here and your Uncle Todd, life’s gonna see to it that you grow into a real cock of the walk among men.”

“…So will his mom. Of course. And—Maddie, I guess.”

“Right. You got a great mom, too, don’t’cha…”

“Thanks for everything, Boss. I—haven’t really said that enough.”

“Ehh, don’t sweat it. Look at us; we’re family now. Heh—that’s right, kid, right over there…”

 

* * *

  
“Hey, Sophie… Surprised to see me? Don’t worry; this is the only bottle I’ve bought since last time, and I haven’t cracked it.

“Haven’t caught him yet—but we do know where the man’s hiding now. Or his associates. Either way, we’re closer than ever now, so… I thought I’d get you a little something to celebrate. I’d stay and share it with you, but—you know.

“I’ll be leavin’ it here. Take your sweet time with it—you know. I thought you’d like this ribbon. Anyway, it’s that much closer to being all over. And I’ll drop by again when it is, hopefully sooner than later.

“See you, hon. I love you.”

* * *

 

_  
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep._

“…Hey, uh. I see you haven’t blocked my number.”

“Orlando.”

“It’s me, a’ight. Is… uh. Is this a shock?”

“A little.”

“Well. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You want something?”

“Maybe. Maybe, if you do. It’s, uh. Look, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past week—everyone has. Been having these nightmares, making me rethink a lot of things, it’s a lot of crazy bullshit, I’d better not get into it, but the point is…”

“Spit it out, Orlando. The point is…? What is you wanna know if I want?”

“I was kinda trying to avoid spitting it out. What with this being sudden and all…”

“I’m listening, though.”

“I wanted to know, if—you wanted to see each other again.”

Black noise.

“…’Lo?”

“Um.”

“I’m not saying I want it like we never split up, just like that. I’ve just missed you, is all. So that’s all I’m asking—if you wanna start seeing each other again.”

“I, ah.”

“What do you say?”

“This is—“ On the other end of the line, she’s pursing her lips. “—I’d like to know where this is coming from, still, to be honest.”

“You miss me, too?”

“All right, now you’re going a little too fast.”

“How ‘bout I… give you the details in person? I’m free Friday night. If you are. Still like sushi?”

“At—“ Sigh. “What time? I could—huh, _yes_ , I could do that.”

“So you do miss me!”

“For now, just—suffice to say my curiosity’s killing me, all right?”

“I’ll take all the time you need to catch up. Or, you know, all the time you’d be up for sparing.”

“I already agreed, honey. That night’s wide-open. Whatever happens, it happens.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up, or anything.”

“Me, neither.”

So she’s got ‘em? He’s smiling.

“Thanks for calling.”

“Thanks for pickin’ up. See you at, ah. Eight, then. You know the place.”

“Yup. Now that you put it that way, I do.”

* * *

 

  
“Got your beer.”

…

“’Ey. Tobyboy. I got your beer.”

…

Her brow knits. “Are you gonna look at me or not?”

“Fff. Sorry. Sorry, Erica, just don’t—spit in it or anything.”

“No promises.” Smirk. “’Least you admit someone might think you deserve it, for giving the waitress the silent treatment.”

“I’m sorry, Erica!”

“You already said that! But geez, you…” Air-quotes. “’Becoming a man’ has sure switched you from hot to cold fast, hasn’t it?”

“Can we _not talk_ about that? Like, ever again? _Please!_ ”

“Aww, why not? You were in a hurry to talk about it the night after it happened.”

“You freaking know why that is!”

“N-n-nope. Can’t say that I do. See, I wasn’t hiding anything from you any more than you were hiding from _me_ that you wear briefs.”

“I am wearing boxers right now, Erica, and they’re blue plaid!”

“I could tell you what I’m wearing, if you like.”

“No! God! Ugh! Like I said—never… Let’s just never talk about this again!”

“You’re still a catch, Toby; cute and earnest. Not the smartest guy around by a longshot, but, heh—“ She leans forward, ball of her foot twisting on the floor, heel of her shoe waving. “— _mmmaaaybe_ you’ll grow out of that to get what you’re missing before we’re both out of our prime. I know _I’m_ missing it.”

“Mmmmmh.”

“Not fighting it anymore, at least.”

* * *

 

  
“Martini for me, Erica.”

“Sake, please.”

“Roger. Be right back.”

Katherine leans her elbows on the table; her eyes flick one way and back. “How _is_ Vincent, by the way?”

Jonny blinks. Mimes pulling a cigarette away from his mouth. He’s not smoking one. “He’s been doing fine. Last we spoke, he seemed happy that we’re happy.”

“Ahh—good to… Good to hear it. Oh… Thanks, Erica.”

“No prob.”

The martini stirs.

Jonny looks over the edge of his sake cup from mouth to table. “Are you all right, Katherine? You seem tense; it’s not like you.”

“Tense?” Ice clinks. Katherine’s eyes unfocus and re-focus, and then flick into her glass. “It’s just—wondering why he’d be the only one who isn’t here. I don’t want to think that this has made anything awkward between… You know. The old guard…”

“He’s in space; that’s why.”

“Space?”

“Yeah. He was feeling bold, placed a bet on a WreslInsanity, and booked a spot on those space tours.”

“Ah—“ Blink. “Wow. He—where did he get that money?”

“For the bet, you mean? He spotted it from the boss here.”

“Heh—hence the risk-taking, I suppose.”

“He’ll be coming back.”

“Well, I didn’t say I thought he was moving to space, Jonny.”

“Hm. I’m not sure he would if he _had_ the chance.”

“Nice to know he’s having his fun, I guess.”

A moment of silence. Glasses clinking.

“…Enough about him, though.”

“You know I don’t mind. I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why you’d be asking.”

“And I’m not saying you mind. Let’s just, ah. Let’s just move on.”

“And save the talking about Vincent for when he’s here to hear it.”

“For when the gang’s all back together?”

“Fourteen years later and just like old times.”

“But, better than ever. I hope.”

“Better than ever.”

* * *

_Cross-posted to FF.net.  
_


End file.
